Tags: e x a c t l y
Tags: e x a c t l y
Given all of the No Win scenarios floating around, who the hell would miss any of these shows on purpose?? You need mind-altering music now more than ever. Get some:
09.04: MADISON, WI: Dragonfly Lounge w/ Chants, *hitmayng and Kiazma…More >>
09.05: IOWA CITY, IA: PS•Z w/ Von Neumann Architecture, BIRTH CTRL, and DOLL FOOD…More >>
09.06: WICHITA, KS: ICT FEST 2013 w/ 45 other amazing acts. Catch adoptahighway playing the Friday night after-party at Kirby’s… More >>
Last week I posted a poem without much in the way of accompaniment aside from a quick statement of regret that I haven’t written anything else for this website of late. To say just that feels like a bit of a slight to both where I’m at mentally, and where I once was in writing this column, so if I can I’d like to take a moment to attempt to correct this, at least in part. I try not to write too much for immediate publication anything about my mental life. I don’t know why I avoid this, it isn’t as if there’s no market for this sort of thing, I just never really thought there’d be much substance (personally) to writing about what medication I’m currently taking, or the tap-tap-tap of the leaky faucet that is my psyche. However, after many months of literary inactivity–both with regard to intense reading sessions, and writing sessions–I’ve decided to cast aside much of my trepidation in this respect and write something about how my brain works to, possibly, get an idea of just how the hell my brain works.
To start, I’ve recently made the shift from one antidepressant to another, something, it would seem, almost nobody is a stranger to anymore in America. I’ve warred in the past over whether or not I can sustain the life I feel I should be living without medication quite a lot, and have decided overall that unless circumstances are such that I can throw caution to the wind and let myself really fucking embrace the dirt and muck of existence, it’s probably fine that I take a fairly small dose of a much-explored medication to keep me from thinking every second about blowing my brains out.
I find myself now, more than anything, thinking about the effects such medications or mental states have had on my memory, and I worry constantly about the question of my age, and where I am in reference to where I’d have liked to have been a few years ago, or something. It’s very complicated, and it’s almost constant, and I wouldn’t write about this if I didn’t think it might help me in some way. I realize that’s an unfortunately solipsistic approach to writing a column that in the past was rather carefree, but some naive part of me believes in the redemptive potential of art, after all this time, and hence I’ll keep at it if only for a moment longer.
What do I mean when I say I think about memory/age as related to medication/depression? Unfortunately, I don’t have a clean-cut answer for this–nor do I for any of the things I’ve brought up here–I only know that with an iPhone in my hand, a book on the table I’ve meant to read for months, and a film playing on TV that I always wanted to know inside and out that my sense of retention seems down almost 100%. Easy answer: turn off the electronics and focus on the book; however of course I do this constantly, and it isn’t quite as simple as all that. I’ve begun to realize that such statements as “[insert deity here] closes one door, [it] opens another” is an extremely pared down way of saying “HEY ASSHOLE, SOMETIMES IN LIFE YOUR SKIN IS GOING TO FALL OFF AND IN THE PROCESS YOU’LL GROW NEW SKIN THAT SHARES ALMOST NOTHING IN COMMON WITH THE SELF THAT EXISTED FIVE YEARS AGO, AND MONTHS WILL GO BY WHEREIN YOU FEEL LIKE A USELESS HOLLOWED-OUT LOG FLOATING FROM ONE ISLAND PILE TO THE NEXT” and I guess when I put it that way this feeling of shiftless indifference doesn’t seem all that bad, I dunno.
What I do know is that you can’t sit in a dark room brooding over the same films/books/artworks expecting suddenly for one of them to wheedle its way into your mind and make everything better; nor can you simply take a pill once a day and expect to suddenly wake up ready to fistfight the police commissioner(!) it takes time and it takes work and it takes putting people through the turmoil of your headspace to suddenly wake up one morning realizing you’ve shed your skin and are ready for what comes next. Maybe I’m not quite there yet, but just writing this–especially that bit about the police commissioner–feels potentially closer to the right thing than anything I’ve clawed at in months.
In addition to this, I’ll now assemble a small list of interests, cos it’s been fucking AGES since I’ve done anything like that, and shit I’ve come across since we last spoke that I’m enjoying. First, Francis Levy, a strange, psychosexual writer whose two books EROTOMANIA and SEVEN DAYS IN RIO are on the brain at the moment and have captivated me much in the way Dennis Cooper’s or The Marquis du Sade’s stuff did earlier in the year. I’m not nearly done with all of his works–again, reading has been slow-going of late–but I feel intrigued enough to mention his name here. The show Delocated/well-done fucked-up comedy TV shows in general. I realize the latter half of that slash probably seems like the dumbest sentence ever written, but I’m kind of serious. I’m obsessed lately with the notion of putting together 3 or 4 solid seasons of one funny-ass television show as one of the crowning achievements of my life, and I think Jonathan Glaser definitely did as much with his show. I’m also late to the game on Venture Bros., a show that really cheered me up earlier in the summer. I dunno, my cultural compass is all fucked up and I’m just getting into stuff the internet has already torn to pieces so don’t listen to me, but all the same, this is the stuff I’ve imbibed of late. What else, uh. I read/reread Underworld by DeLillo and A Portrait of the Artist as a Young Man this summer and in so doing realized their strange similarities–the Jesuit portions in each book as a moral compass for both Nick Shay and Stephen Dedalus, as well as the descriptions of items preoccupying students and their teachers, shoes in Underworld and a piece of a lamp in A Portrait. I dunno, very boring stuff unless you’ve got the books nearby, but they’ve got more in common than I ever even bothered to consider and it was strange reading them both at random in the same couple of weeks. Jacqueline Valencia, a writer I dig, has been documenting her rewriting of Joyce these past few months and I’ve enjoyed that quite a bit as well. Fuck, uh, what else. Go for lots of walks, read some Kay Redfield Jamison and realize we’re all nuts, take a bath and do it all over again. I’m not sure. I don’t know that I care yet. I’m not gonna include any links in this post because of that. Sorry all. You have to Google things if you wanna dig deeper, otherwise this has truly been the ramblings of a complete moron.
ALSO, the galleys for my book arrived, they look pretty good. As most of you know, I wrote the thing quite awhile ago, so it’s been a strange experience to mull through it again, but whatever, it’s being published by a solid press and I stand by the thing. I hope you’ll enjoy it when it’s in yr hands. TPOC PREORDER
correct your spine © 2013